


Like a Summer Rain

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: No one saw it coming.No one except everyone.Or, a proposal fic.
Relationships: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger
Kudos: 55





	Like a Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali and Ashlyn announcing their engagement_

No one saw it coming. 

Well, that’s not true. 

Their fans had been speculating about it for years now, when it would happen, where, who would make the move. 

Every birthday, every big holiday, every major accomplishment, and the whispers got louder. Would it be Ash for Ali’s birthday? Would it be Ali for New Year’s? Would it be in D.C., one of the weekends Ash was spotted in the airport, flying in for a weekend visit on Orlando’s bye week? Or in Rio, celebrating a US gold, another medal to hang in their trophy room? 

But all these dates and places passed, and the fans’ predictions went unfulfilled. 

Until one day. 

Just a random run-in at a Target down in Florida, a fan eager for a photo with her favorite players. 

No one caught it at first. Until someone, looking just a little more closely than everyone else, saw the glitter, saw the sparkle. 

A ring on Ali’s finger–on _the_ finger. A diamond, a gold band. 

And another on Ash’s. Not matching, no single diamond but a line of them, inset into the wide silver band. 

The day had come. 

The fans went crazy. 

The internet erupted with their congratulations, their questions, their requests for all the details. 

But the couple, as always, was silent. 

The details were theirs, and theirs alone. 

But if the story _were_ to get out, if they _were_ to share, this is how it’d go … 

—–

It’s an ordinary Tuesday night. No special occasion, no special location. Just an off-season Tuesday night at their home. Rare, of course, and all the more precious because of it.

Ali starts dinner–spaghetti bolognese, garlic bread, some zucchini and squash grilled out on the patio in back–and watches as the waves break against the sand of their little beach. And it’s funny, because she thought she’d be nervous. She thought she’d be sweating and scared. 

But she’s more calm than she’s ever been. 

She’s been through so much–injuries and comebacks, breakups and makeups, losses and second place finishes and finally, finally, the medals she’d always been chasing. 

This? 

This is nothing in comparison. 

This is everything–everything–but there is nothing to fear. 

She knows, Ashlyn loves her completely. Ashlyn loves her in her best moments and in her worst. Ash loves her with morning breath and bedhead as much as she loves her in cleats and a kit, in sweats and a sports bra, in that fancy evening gown and those high, high heels. 

She’s fallen asleep teary-eyed in the goalkeeper’s arms, and woken her up with soft, gentle kisses. She’s come up behind the taller woman in the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Ashlyn’s strong, solid waist, pressing kisses to the back of her neck. And she’s apologized and been apologized to time and time again–with flowers, with soft and true words, with promises. 

Nothing can break them. 

Nothing will. 

“Hey, I’m home,” Ash calls from the garage, flip-flops slapping against the tile of the kitchen floor. Bento, their ten-month-old French bulldog trots over to her, pawing at her bare legs until she picks him up and cradles him in her arms like a baby.

“How’s my little bruiser,” she says in a high-pitched voice, scratching his little belly. 

“Your little bruiser tried to eat one of your cleats today,” Ali tells her, wide smile breaking across her face. “I told you to pick them up.” 

But her voice holds no malice or _told you so_ in it, and to soothe over the thought of her favorite cleats being Bento’s new favorite toy, Ali hands the blonde an ice-cold long neck. 

“What’s all this,” Ash asks after a long sip, “we having company?”

But Ali just smiles to herself and picks up the bowl of spaghetti, the blonde following her into the dining room. The lights are low, and softly glowing candles cover every flat surface of the room. 

“Nope,” she says cheerfully, “just us. Thought we could have a nice dinner. Just you and me.” 

There’s something different about Ali’s gaze tonight, something intense. It’s like she can see everything–their past, their future. Their whole life together, stretched out in the space between them, and if she wasn’t sure before? 

If she wasn’t absolutely positive that this woman and this love and this life was what she wanted?

She is now.

“Why don’t you go feed Bento, and meet me at the table,” Ali tells the blonde. 

The smile Ashlyn gives her is gentle, and pure, and in a rare moment of shyness, she blushes under her girlfriend’s loving watch. No one makes her feel as beautiful as Ali does, no one sees past her armor, straight to her innermost heart, as Ali does.

“Okay,” she answers softly, and turns to call for the puppy, laughing as he bounds over to her and starts to lick at her toes.

—–

The lights are off, but the bright Florida sun is enough. 

It’s an ordinary night, a night they’ve had a hundred times, will have a thousand times more. 

Dinner together, something simple and hearty. Ali’s foot toying with the hem of the blonde’s shorts. Ashlyn’s sweet laugh as she tells the story of the backup keeper who went for a save during practice and ended up somersaulting herself into the net. 

When they tell their families, their mothers will ask why they didn’t go out, get dressed up, have a nice dinner some place special. 

But Ali doesn’t want that, and she’ll tell them so.

What she wants is this. Them. Exactly how they are, their most honest selves.

She fell in love with Ashlyn in a moment like this, simple and true. 

It feels right to promise her forever in the same way. 

—–

“Ash,” she whispers, heart overflowing with love. 

And the blonde meets her eyes with a soft, raised _hmmm?_

There were words Ali had planned to say. There were things she thought she she needed to tell Ash, things she thought she needed Ash to know. 

But now, in the moment, there’s only one question. 

Because everything she wants to say, Ash already knows. Ali can see it in her eyes. 

So she just says what’s true. She just says what she knows with every breath, every beat of her heart. 

“I love you,” Ali tells the woman she loves, and when she reaches across the table to take Ash’s hand in her own, she holds out the ring, the promise she’s making to her other half, her partner. 

Ashlyn’s smile is tiny, gentle and soft. And she bites at the corner of her lip as she watches Ali’s face, as Ali slips the ring onto her finger. 

She doesn’t need to say the words.

There’s only one answer for her, and it’s far more simple than a “yes” or a “no.”

“Always,” she whispers, “always.”


End file.
